But Stub well knew that although their horses were thin and sore, and they themselves were lean and tattered and almost barefoot, these Americans could fight. Now Chief Pike and the two Pawnee chiefs drank from the kettle of water, out of their hands, and smoked the pipe, and ate a little dried buffalo meat. Several Indians were called upon by the chief, to pass the knives and flints and steels around. Indians who were given the presents threw them upon the ground. The lieutenant shook hands with the chiefs, and rose. “All ready, doctor,” he called. “Pack your animals, sergeant, where necessary. We march.” The Pawnees sprang up, too, and crowded forward again. “They make a surround,” said Baroney. “Look out, lieutenant! They’re stealing your pistols――mine, too!” cried the doctor. The lieutenant leaped upon his horse just in time to rescue his pistols, hanging from the saddle. He was hemmed in. The soldiers were swearing and darting back and forth, grabbing at thieves and protecting the baggage also. Now the lieutenant had lost his hatchet. He exclaimed furiously. “Tell the chief my hatchet is gone.” The chief only said: “These are small matters for a great man.” He drew his buffalo robe high and turned his back. The lieutenant flushed, more angry still, and stiffened in his saddle. He meant business. Stub had seen him look this way before. “Leave the baggage and get your men to one side, sergeant. Quick! Be ready with your guns. That’s it. Baroney, tell the chief that the next warrior who touches our baggage or animals shall die instantly. Sergeant, at the first attempt, let the men shoot to kill.” The Pawnees understood. They saw the muskets half leveled, and the grim, determined faces behind. A warrior stretched out his hand, stealthily, to a pack――and John Spark’s muzzle covered him in a flash. He jumped back. “Go!” suddenly ordered the head chief. The Pawnees sullenly gathered their presents, and without another word filed away, the whole sixty. “See if we’ve lost anything, sergeant,” said the lieutenant. “One sword, one tomahawk, one axe, five canteens and some smaller stuff missing, sir,” was the report. The soldiers waited eagerly. They wished to follow and fight. “No matter,” gruffly answered the lieutenant. “We must save our lives for our work, my men. We have work to do. Forward, march.” He shrugged his shoulders, and added, to the doctor: “I feel as badly as they do. This is the first time I ever swallowed an insult to the Government and the uniform. But our number is too small to risk failure of our plans. Now for the mountains.” “By gar, once more my scalp was loose,” said Baroney, to Stub. “Yes. They had black hearts, those Grand Pawnee,” Stub gravely agreed. This day they marched seventeen miles, and the next day nineteen miles. In all they had come more than one hundred and twenty miles, their eyes upon the Big Blue Mountain, as the lieutenant called it. And at last they had just about overtaken it.